Nina Coombs Pykare (30 page)

But his eyes told her nothing. The viscount’s, on the other hand, told her too much. “May I lead you into dinner?” he asked, offering her his arm with a gallant flourish.

For a moment she stood there, looking helplessly at the earl, but his eyes remained cloudy, his features set in an expression of distant politeness. So, not knowing what else to do, she took the arm the viscount offered her and murmured, “Thank you, milord. You’re very kind.”

A grimace, almost of pain, crossed the earl’s face. She bit her bottom lip in vexation. His lordship must be remembering the many happy times he had led his lady wife into dinner. Edwina suppressed a sigh. Lady Catherine was indeed a formidable opponent.

Charles saw the governess take Crawford’s arm. Of course, she could hardly have refused it, not without causing Crawford to comment. Still, Charles wished she were at his side instead. Last night he’d held her in his arms, held her close against his aching body. He swallowed a sigh. Last night had been a mistake. He should never have touched her. Yet even now he wished that his good sense had not kept him from having what he so badly wanted, needed. Then, and, God help him, even now.

She had finished the second gown. The color brought out the shine in her dark hair and deepened her sea-green eyes. The rosy color of the gown was much like the color of her mouth, the sweet mouth that last night-

As the earl moved on toward the dining hall and she and the viscount fell in behind him, Edwina struggled to calm herself. She must learn not to let her emotions run wild every time she saw the earl. Such goings-on—agitation and near swooning -might be the fashion for ladies of sensibility, but for a sturdy girl like her they were pure foolishness. Besides, they could get her in a lot of trouble.

Still, she noted with pleasure the set of the earl’s broad shoulders beneath his shabby jacket. There was strength in him, she couldn’t help remembering the feel of his arms around her, his lips on hers. What a fine looking man he was. That touch of gray at his temples gave him just the right distinguished look. And when he kissed her-

She was stifling another wistful sigh when Lady Leonore’s voice rang out. “Charles, my dear. There you are.”

The earl stopped and turned to wait and Edwina’s eyes automatically searched his face for signs of any partiality he might hold for the lady. Edwina let out a sigh of relief. His face wore the same look of blank aristocratic politeness that it had presented to her.

At least, she thought, it looked like there was nothing between him and Lady Leonore. Surely the earl wouldn’t bother to hide feelings of love for the lady if they existed. Lady Leonore, after all, was not affected by the curse. He could marry her with impunity—and only her, Edwina thought with more bitterness than she liked to admit to. Much as she loved him, she didn’t think she could stay at Holmden Hill if Lady Leonore became his wife, though, of course, if such a thing should happen, the girls would be more in need of loving care than ever. Well, there seemed to be no indication of such a thing coming to pass soon. Thank goodness.

Nevertheless, when Lady Leonore took the earl’s arm, Edwina felt a contraction of her heart. It was so forcible that she stiffened slightly, causing the viscount to raise an inquiring eyebrow. “It was nothing,” she murmured. “A twinge of heartburn, nothing more.”

The viscount raised his other eyebrow as though he didn’t believe her, but said nothing.

Trying to behave as she always had, she wished for a moment that she didn’t have to dine with the others. But that was stupid. If she dined in the kitchen, she wouldn’t get to see much of the earl. She simply must get a grip on herself. She was too old to be behaving like a ninny.

With great care the viscount seated her. The earl was doing the same for Lady Leonore, Edwina saw when she dared to look in his direction. If only their positions were reversed and the earl was giving her all that attention. How wonderful it would be to sit beside him, to be able to laugh and smile, to reach out whenever she liked and touch his arm, his hand.

Beside her, the viscount shook out his napkin. “So, has anyone done anything of note today?” he inquired cheerfully.

She felt an intense desire to giggle, brought on, she supposed, by the embarrassment inherent in the situation. Here she was sitting down to dinner with two men, both of whom had kissed her. The viscount, of course, didn’t know that. She hesitated. Unless the earl had decided to tell him. Was that what they’d been talking about? She felt her cheeks heating up again. Men were purported to discuss such things.

The viscount appeared to be acting no differently toward her than he had before. So he must not know. He was just a sociable man. Quite probably if he were transported to a desert island and forced to live with savages, he would still have tried to make dinner conversation. Providing of course that he wasn’t the dinner. Or, she swallowed a giggle, perhaps even then. At any rate, his surroundings seemed to have very little effect on his naturally ebullient character.

Lady Leonore met his attempt at conversation with her usual icy stare, but after a moment the earl gave his cousin a sad smile and said, “I fear that noteworthy things seldom occur at Holmden Hill. At least not good ones.”

The viscount shook his head. “Really, you should get out into some of the lovely weather before winter descends again with all its vengeance. Why, coz, you’re as pale as a gh—” The viscount stopped suddenly, then went on— “as a snowdrift.”

The earl merely smiled again, the saddest smile Edwina had ever seen. “I have little feeling for the out of doors at present,” he said. He didn’t look at her and yet she felt a reprimand in his words, as though somehow she was responsible for his lack of feeling.

The viscount shook his head. “You mustn’t give in to your melancholy like this, Charles. A walk in the woods would do wonders for you.”

Edwina saw the earl stiffen and a particularly closed expression settled on his face, but the viscount didn’t seem to notice. “Yes, indeed,” he continued cheerfully. “A good hike in the woods would do wonders for you. Miss Pierce and I enjoyed just such a walk the other day. It was quite delightful. But to my regret, I couldn’t persuade her to repeat it today.”

Edwina hadn’t been able to tear her gaze from the earl’s face, and she remarked the evenness of his expression. But she also remarked the muscle in his jaw that tightened at the mention of the proposed walk and then loosened perceptibly at the news that she had refused it.

It looked like it was still important to him that she not go walking with the viscount. She’d like to take this as evidence of some partiality toward her, she wanted to take it that way, but she knew that was foolishness. If Charles had any concern for her, it wasn’t from jealousy but because she was good for his daughters. His concern was based on gratitude—nothing more. Painful as that was, it was something that she must recognize. There was little point in looking for signs of a partiality that didn’t exist. She would only make heartache for herself. She had enough of that already.

The earl had kissed her—simply because he was a man and, like all men, occasionally craved a woman. He had kissed her, quite simply, because she had been there. Any woman would have served as well. Well, except perhaps the icy Lady Leonore, Edwina told herself with foolish gratification as she blinked back the tears and addressed herself to her meal. When he had wanted a woman to kiss, the earl had chosen, not the fashionable lady but the poor governess. That fact gave her inconceivable satisfaction.

Chapter Thirty-one

At bedtime, exhausted by the events of the previous night, Edwina went to sleep almost as soon as she finished her prayers. But it seemed she had scarcely dozed off before she was wakened by a clap of thunder so intense that it lifted her into a sitting position right there in the bed, and left her there, absolutely rigid with fear.

She listened, holding her breath, but there was not a sound from the nursery. The girls, poor dears, slept peacefully on.

She lay back among her pillows, but now sleep had completely deserted her. Now all she could think of was Charles. There in her own bed she didn’t tell herself she had no right to use his Christian name, but instead repeated it over and over to herself. It sounded good on her lips. Right. She relished the sound of it. But she didn’t relish what he’d said to her last night. The words rang in her memory, haunting her as much as any ghost. He was tired, he’d said. Sometimes he thought of giving up. Her heart pounded at the thought of him doing that, of her losing him—the only man she’d ever loved. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t.

She plumped the pillows and settled back, preparing to sleep again. But sleep simply wouldn’t come. What was Charles doing now? Had he gone to sleep yet? Was he there in that great bed, lying awake like she was? Could he possibly be thinking of her? But no, he’d be thinking of his beloved Catherine. Wishing her there beside him.

What if Catherine called to him tonight? A shiver skittered over Edwina’s flesh, turning it cold and clammy. He had promised not to go to the parapet. But that hadn’t really reassured her. If Catherine’s ghost—or whoever was pretending to be her ghost—was after him, he wasn’t going to be safe anywhere.

The more she thought about the things he’d said, the more nervous about him she became. She twisted and turned, tangling herself in the covers, but sleep still wouldn’t come. Finally she threw back the covers and got to her feet. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep again until she knew Charles was safe in his bed. It was foolish of her—she knew that. But she was newly in love, and her heart held sway over her head.

She pulled on her robe and thrust her feet into her slippers. No more wandering about barefoot on those cold stone floors. She would just see that Charles was sleeping peacefully—at this hour of the night no one would even know she’d been up—and then, when she knew he was safe, she could sleep again.

She picked up the lighted candle and crept into the nursery. The girls were both sleeping, their relaxed faces angelic in the candlelight. She smiled down at them, her little loves. Now she could go look in on their father.

As usual the hall was dark and chill, the candles guttering in their candelabra gave only fitful light, casting fearful shadows before and behind her. But shadows held no terror for her now. Her heart was full of love. She wanted to see her beloved, see him safe. So she pressed on.

She was almost to the earl’s door when she stopped cold. How silly! She couldn’t very well just open the door and go into his room. She couldn’t look in on him as she had his daughters.

She hesitated. Should she forget this need of hers, go back to her bed? But she couldn’t bear to go back to her room without knowing him safe. That was all she wanted—just to see him safe. She could at least look to see if there was light coming from under his door. Then, if all was quiet, she could go back to her bed and sleep. Or at least have a better chance at sleep.

But when she reached the earl’s chamber, all thoughts of sleep deserted her. His door stood ajar! Holding her breath, she raised her candle high and eased carefully into the room. Had he left the door open like that? Was he sleeping peacefully in his bed?

But the bed was empty! Her heart stopped in her throat. It had not been slept in this night. The covers were still smoothed and the pillows unrumpled. Where was the earl? Had he heard Catherine calling to him? Oh God! Had he gone to her?

Edwina stood frozen, scarcely daring to breathe, not knowing what to do next. Should she go back to her chamber? Should she check the parapet door? Wait.

What was that noise? A noise down the hall. If the earl found her there, in his bedchamber, he would surely think the worst of her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. But was it the earl she heard coming? Or someone else?

She whirled about. The doorway was empty. Or empty now. Had that been a flicker of something dark, like the edge of a cloak just floating past? She rushed toward the door, caught the toe of her slipper in the rug, and almost fell. The candle trembled so that she thought it would go out. But she righted herself, managed to steady the candle, and hurried out into the hall.

She looked to the left. Nothing. She looked to the right. Some distance away- Was that a flicker of white? She saw it only for a moment, then it was gone, moving in the direction of the deserted wing.

She stood there, arguing with herself. She didn’t know where Charles was, but it was the outside of foolishness to go chasing after the ghost again. She didn’t relish another night locked in a cold room. She did want to know where Charles was -or more important—she wanted to know that he was safe. But following the specter wouldn’t necessarily lead her to Charles. In sober fact it could lead her into danger.

But the ghost was headed in the direction of the tower. And Charles wasn’t in his room.

She squared her shoulders. If she followed, she wouldn’t have to get too close to the creature in white. She wasn’t about to follow it into any more rooms. She could at least check to make sure the tower door was locked. That should make her feel a little better.

She took her time moving along the hall, and she saw no more flickers of white in the distance. The hall was dark, of course, and the further she went from the inhabited part of the castle, the colder the air seemed to get, a chill that bit into her very bones.

There were shadows everywhere, great shifting shadows that sent shivers tingling along her spine. She told herself firmly that if the figure in white actually were a ghost it could have harmed her before—and it hadn’t. If the figure were a person, as she suspected, then the same reasoning still held. Even if it didn’t, she was prepared to do battle with anyone, natural or supernatural, who wanted to harm the man she loved.

She was almost to the tower door when a sound behind her made her hesitate. Shielding the candle, she stood there. Footsteps. Someone was behind her. Between her and safety. Her heart pounded in her chest. The hand holding the candle trembled. Who was back there? What should she do?